


Sunshine

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Seeing [4]
Category: MEGANEBU!
Genre: Boys Kissing, Confrontations, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When a voice shouts Mitsuki's name there’s a flash of recognition-before-recognition, his heart speeding with excitement, and there’s only one person who can elicit that sort of response from his subconscious mind." Mitsuki tries to avoid Hayato and himself. Hayato deals with problems directly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine

Mitsuki knew this was a bad idea. Obviously it was a bad idea, right from the start. If he had spent any time at all thinking about it he would  _never_  have flung himself at Hayato like he did, and even given that he  _didn’t_  think about it and therefore  _did_  throw his arms around the other boy’s neck in a brief fit of delight he can only explain the kiss that immediately followed as absolute insanity. It’s clearly nothing for which he can be held accountable, not when he  _hates_  Hayato, after all, even if sometimes Hayato makes him think of Soma-senpai and sometimes he wants to see what Hayato’s face looks like without the interruption of his glasses and sometimes he comes back to himself after a few minutes of staring at the other boy’s mouth.

It’s a few days after the  _second_  kiss that Mitsuki has to really start thinking that maybe it’s not pure madness on his part after all. He briefly wonders if he doesn’t have multiple personalities -- that honestly seems like an easier explanation, at first. But then he spends too long thinking about it and suddenly all his shoulder-checks and full-body tackles and prodding fingers start to look like desperation for physical contact with Hayato, and the flare of heat under his skin he is used to thinking of as rage doesn’t seem like anger so much after all.

It’s right then that it becomes a real problem. At least it’s the summer, so he doesn’t  _have_  to see Hayato. He can not answer his phone; even if he does spend hours staring at the texts from Hayato and  _think_  about responding he  _doesn’t_  and that’s what’s important, that’s the space he needs to retain his  _sanity_  because  _obviously_  he’s not interested in Hayato. He  _hates_  Hayato. Definitely.

He’s chanting this in the back of his head when he takes Norio out for the dog’s daily walk, pacing the syllables in time with the tread of his shoes on the pavement and staring at the white fur moving in front of him without thinking about much of anything, because that seems to be the most reasonable approach. Which means that when a voice shouts his name there’s a flash of recognition-before-recognition, his heart speeding with excitement, and there’s only one person who can elicit that sort of response from his subconscious mind.

He’s turning before he’s taken the time to confirm his assumption, the words “Soma-senpai!” already at his lips before he gets his head up, and sees the dark hair instead of the brown he’s expecting, and the shock of his personal realization is enough to freeze him in place while Hayato jogs over the remaining distance between them.

“Mitsuki!” Hayato’s voice is high and piercing, Mitsuki  _hates_  his voice, why would he  _ever_  be happy to hear him, but his heart is beating too fast anyway. “I’ve been texting you, have you gotten my messages?”

Mitsuki’s chin comes up, instinctive response even though he can feel his face is still pale from the terrified epiphany he’s trying  _really_  hard to avoid seeing. “Of course. I’ve just been busy.”

“Oh,” Hayato says, some of the shape falling out of his shoulders, and Mitsuki feels a flare of totally unfamiliar guilt. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He glances away, takes a breath and looks back. “I’m glad I caught you here, though, I missed you!” He’s smiling as he speaks, Mitsuki can see the flash of his teeth as his lips form around the words.

There’s a pause, silence forming between them, and when Hayato’s smile starts to flicker Mitsuki suddenly realizes he’s staring at the other boy’s mouth. He jerks his gaze up to meet the other’s eyes, flushing crimson and closing his mouth sharply because he’s  _licking_  his  _lip_ , this is  _entirely_  ridiculous he has fully lost control of his body, now.

“I’ve been busy,” he manages, but it sounds shaky, weak with a lack of details. When Hayato blinks Mitsuki’s gaze follows the shift of his dark eyelashes against his skin. Has Hayato always had such dark eyelashes?

“Yeah,” Hayato says again. He’s starting to flush, his sun-tanned cheeks going darker with the rise of color, and Mitsuki blushes harder himself, although he’s pretty sure he just looks scarlet instead of the oddly appealing shadow climbing into Hayato’s cheeks. “Well. I actually just had a question for you.”

“I’m here,” Mitsuki says shortly, or tries to say shortly; he just sounds kind of breathless and panicked. Norio chooses this moment to be perfectly obedient, sinking to lay on the ground and pant gently, removing Mitsuki’s last chance for salvation from the conversation coming at him like the headlights of a train.

“Yeah.” Hayato clears his throat, shoves his hands into his pockets. He’s blushing darker, now, biting idly at his lip. His mouth is chapped, maybe from getting too much sun in the last week and a half. “Do you like me?”

Mitsuki is so caught up in the pattern of Hayato’s lips that it takes him a moment to process the question. “Hm?” Then it hits him and he looks up, fast, eyes going wide with shock as his skin finds a way to flush even  _darker_  than he already was.

Hayato’s not looking at him, at least there’s that, but that just means Mitsuki can stare at his eyelashes while the other boy stutters, “Well. You keep  _kissing_  me, and I like it and I want to kiss you too but I don’t know if you’ll let me. It doesn’t seem fair that sometimes you kiss me and then you don’t answer my texts and I don’t know when I can see you again.”

He blinks, turns his head to look back at Mitsuki. Mitsuki has his mouth open -- some part of his brain is telling him to hit Hayato, maybe punch him in the stomach or tackle him just to get him to shut up -- but then he cycles back to the middle part of the sentence, and what he ends up saying is, “You want to kiss me?”

“Yeah.” Hayato doesn’t look nervous at  _all_  anymore, that’s not fair in the least. His eyes are clear and his shoulders are steady, like the weight of worry has lifted off him.

Mitsuki’s eyes go wider. His throat tightens on his exhale, turning it into something of a whimper. “Oh.”

Hayato bites his lip again. “Can I?”

Mitsuki whines again without meaning to. “Yes?” It sounds like way more of a question than he intended it to, and furthermore he was  _trying_  to say ‘no,’ but then Hayato’s face breaks into a smile and Mitsuki’s thoughts blank out entirely.

He stands perfectly still when Hayato steps forward, doesn’t shove the other boy away or lean back or in or anything, just stares at him, so wide-eyed he thinks he may have forgotten how to blink. Hayato is smiling all over his face, the wide smile that makes him look particularly foolish, but Mitsuki can’t remember how to breathe right, and then Hayato’s leaning in, he’s a little taller, how did Mitsuki not notice that before? Fingers land on Mitsuki’s arm, like Hayato’s holding him steady, and Mitsuki’s other hand loses its grip on the leash he’s holding just as Hayato’s mouth comes down on his lips. The other boy’s mouth is sun-warmed and faintly sticky; it’s like kissing the summer itself. Mitsuki can still see his eyelashes, magnified out of focus by proximity, and then he thinks to shut his eyes and tries to breathe through his nose, and when he leans in a little Hayato parts his lips and slides his tongue against Mitsuki’s mouth. There’s a rush of heat under Mitsuki’s skin, and its a good thing he dropped the leash because his arms are coming up around Hayato’s neck and he’s leaning in close, pulling so hard on the other boy they teeter and almost fall before Hayato can take a desperate step sideways to brace them both.

Hayato’s laughing when they separate and Mitsuki’s panting, weirdly out of breath even though they haven’t  _done_  anything, they’ve barely kissed at all.

“Can I see you?” Hayato asks. This close Mitsuki can feel the heat of the other boy’s words on his skin, shivers before he can control his reaction.

Mitsuki knows what he  _wants_  to say, and knows what he  _should_  say, and the two are the same, for once, there’s only stubbornness holding him back now. So he shuts his eyes -- it’s easier if he’s not looking -- and presses his forehead against the warmth of Hayato’s shoulder, and says, “Yeah. I guess.”

“Really?” Hayato asks, sounding shocked and delighted at the same time.

Mitsuki grimaces, lets his hold on Hayato’s neck go with one arm so he can punch the other boy’s shoulder. “ _Yes_ ,  _fine_.” He wants to growl with irritation when he feels Hayato’s smile against his cheek, but somehow he’s smiling too, and when he starts laughing it sounds more delighted than frustrated, and he feels happier than he has in months.


End file.
